


The Judged

by EjBlaKit



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Dredd's got this, F/M, How do Judges go missing?, Things do not bode well for Anderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6171382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EjBlaKit/pseuds/EjBlaKit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something in the city, something dark and unknown, and it isn't human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to keep writing, but I get pretty lazy.  
> I'm a massive fan, but probably not doing it any justice, so just go with the flow.  
> Any critic/pressure to keep writing is much appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading!

There is only so much violence a person can take in a day. 

Unless they're a psychopath, in which case all props to them. 

But Anderson was not. 

She was tired. And hungry. And sore. And filthy and drokk everything and everyone. She was a PSI, yes, but she was not a psychopath.

Her ears rang with close-quarters weapon fire, body thrummed with hand-to-hand and concussive explosives, her head pounded with thoughts and emotions that weren't hers. At least not mostly. She sat on the floor of the shower, slowly teasing her mind out of the hazy web as water dripped down strings of blonde, bloody hair. A helmet would definitely help prevent that. The gunk and the blood. Would help keep the body parts separated from her as well. And there she was, all of her, nestled in a dark corner of her mind, a cocoon of safety. Hiding from the screams of terror, the flashes of the perps from multiple eyes, dead children, dead families, an out of control vehicle, building fires, chemical attacks. A busy, 30 hour day. A normal day in the life of a Judge. A normal life ... for a Judge.  
She heard the door open, boots echoing through the locker room, another patrol back at the end of shift. The two women said nothing to her or each other as they showered and patched themselves up, dressed, and left.  
A normal life for a Judge.

\---

"Anderson," the voice was low, quiet.  
"Dredd," she acknowledged easily. She didn't fear him anymore. Perhaps that's because she knew him, could understand him. Sure he was a hard arse, strict, moral, a ruthless upholder of the law, but he was still a Judge. A very experienced one. And the one who thought she'd cut it. The cadets were petrified of him. Her own class, as much as they disliked her, were envious.  
She could feel eyes on them, other Judges passing them through the endless corridors of the Hall of Justice. She kept hers on the buildings below, the grid-locked highways, overcrowded walkways. The wall was too far away from here to see, but she could feel it. The city limits.  
"You've progressed well," the compliment surprised, made her cautious. "Been a year since you walked out on your judgement. Glad to see you stuck around."  
"What can I say? They really needed me," it wasn't a lie. She'd come back to hand in the rest of her uniform but the Chief Judge had met her personally. How were you supposed to turn him down after just pressing your credentials into the most feared law bringer in all of Mega City 1? Her gloves creaked as her grip tightened on the railing. Obviously, you didn't, because here she was. "Can I help you?" He made a sound in his throat.  
"There's some creep murdering citizens, and we have no idea who or how."  
"I need more than that to go on." She turned to face him, pushing the city wall from her mind. Instead she focused on his mouth, ignoring her reflection in his visor. The usual grimace, turned sourer by her response. He hadn't had any contact with her since her test, so it made sense he wasn't used to the way she spoke.  
"The bodies have already gone through resyk."  
"So quickly?"  
"A few weeks ago."  
"Oh." She drummed her fingers against the metal railing, the sudden urge to take her gloves off overwhelming. "Can we visit the scenes?"  
"The bodies were dumped on the steps of the Hall of Justice."  
"Well I've walked up and down those a lot in the past few weeks, so I'm going to hazard a dead end there too. Any personal items? Anything?" Dredd shook his head. Her shoulders slumped. "I can give it a bash, I guess, but I doubt I'll find anything. I'll do it tonight when I'm off duty and let you know if I find anything, alright?"  
"I want you to do it now." She pressed her lips tightly together, brows furrowing in a mixture of anger and frustration. "I've taken you off the duty roster today, so you're mine." A day off the streets and sitting in a comfortable chair sounded pretty pleasant. Her mood flipped instantly.  
"Follow me then and I'll see what I can get you. You ever been into the PSI department?" She lead the senior Judge through the long grey halls of law and order, passing endless rooms of computer banks and files and offices. The most fortified building in the city, with the most to lose. And, oddly enough, one of the quietest for her, despite the thousands of bodies stalking the passageways. The PSI department was even more so. Everyone had individual offices to minimise interference, and everyone loved the silence.  
Although not the strongest, and most reliable, Anderson was making a name for herself down here. She was good, even better when she could touch what she was trying to read. She pushed open her office door, knowing that Dredd would be taking note of the overflowing pile of ignored documents and reports on her desk. She kicked her boots off and peeled off her gloves. No point being uncomfortable. She could feel the distaste radiating off the senior Judge.  
"Feelings to yourself, please. I can't focus with you griping at my uniform." Surprise and then nothing. Good. She knew he'd be good at bottling himself up. "Alright, if I don't come up for air in an hour, get one of the other PSI Judges. If anything weird happens, try to wake me. I don't know what I'm looking for, and there're some weird things out there."  
"You're looking for a perp who gets in and out of buildings without leaving a trace, no video evidence, no witness who saw anything strange. He kills differently every time: beheading, suffocating, poisoning, stabbing, one vic was raped and completely dismembered. He then dumps each body in plain sight on the steps without anyone, including Judges, seeing him. He hasn't killed in a couple of weeks, but we still need to find him." Anderson curled herself up in her favourite chair as her guest perched his large frame in the chair opposite her.  
So she was a last ditch effort to find this guy. Typical.  
Closing her eyes, she began to search.  
Nothing, at first. And then a wall, thick metal and cement. Dredd, it had to be, sitting so close to her. She could feel anger rolling off him in subtle waves, buffeting her gently. There was curiosity there, too, and a faint sense of hope, for her. Further out she spanned, brushing the consciousness of her colleagues. A few responded with a casual acknowledgement, most ignored her, probably too deep in their own nets. She broke past the PSI division and was instantly bombarded by the responsibilities, worries and fears of the Justice Department. Promotions, law and order, justice, meals, bathing, informants, damaged equipment, meetings, they all pelted against her, pinging away like gravel under the tyres of her Lawmaster. Further out she went, into the city, feeling the emotions of the citizens she protected. Under the jealousy and love, fear and frustration, boredom, drug hazes, the evil inclinations of petty criminals and hard core gang leaders, she felt something. And it felt her. She pressed, digging for it, searching out, the direction, the smell, and it searched back. Long dark fingers sped through roadways towards her. She spread her legs and dug her heels into the ground. This wasn't the first mental battle she'd fought, and it wouldn't be her last. She drew her Lawgiver, aimed it at the wall of black cloud bearing down on her, crowding out the people and buildings, crowding out life. She aimed, fired, and screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Judge Peterson was crouched over her, worried green eyes peering into hers.   
"You okay?" The blurring vision slowly cleared. She could see PSI Judges Marks and Lopez standing in her doorway, and Dredd standing by her favourite chair.   
"What-?"  
"Damn it Anderson, you scared us all to death!"  
"Ain't never heard you scream like that," Lopez agreed, rubbing her arms.  
"I screamed?"   
"Snapped me out of my trance real fast," Lopez answered, "and I was in deep."  
"Did you feel it?" Anderson clutched Peterson's arm, felt the worry ebbing through him. All three PSI Judges shook their heads. "Dredd, I felt him. It was definitely him. He knows who I am. He found me really fast. Sir, he's a mutant, really strong."  
"Have to be for Anderson to make a noise. Dredd, I've seen her break hardened criminals without breaking a sweat," Peterson helped her to her feet, sat her back in her chair. How she'd gotten to the floor ...   
"Where is he?" Dredd demanded. Anderson didn't answer straight away, couldn't. She tried to think, but saw black, a huge wall of black and pain.   
"What made you scream?" Peterson asked kindly, a hand on her knee as he crouched beside her. He was old enough to be her father, with a head of thinning grey hair and a web of laugh lines marring his face. Anderson shook her head slowly, feeling dizzy.   
"I don't know where he is, or who he is, or what he really is ... I just ... I just know that he is." She looked up helplessly at Judge Dredd, saw her reflection looking back at her. So pale, so wide-eyed. Nothing like the street Judge she had been only yesterday.   
"Can you try again?"  
"Not now, Dredd. She's exhausted. She'll have to be checked out and given the okay by the medics," Peterson took charge. He didn't bother trying to intimidate Dredd with height. Dredd was taller and broader than all four PSI Judges in the room.   
"See to it then. Report to me when you're cleared, Anderson." He left the room, leaving the PSI Judges to deal with her.

\---

The robots and medics and machines buzzed and fretted, testing and retesting. Endless beeps and blood tests, pokes and prods. Lopez had sat with her, for a time, gripping her hand, fishing around for an answer in Anderson's brain. She'd come up empty, confused.  
"There's just nothing," Lopez said as she left. "You're just ... blank." And she felt blank. No matter how much she tried to remember, all she could recall was the thick wall of Dredd, the murmur of the city, and black. Unyielding black.  
"You have been cleared for duty," a robot chirped at her. "You are to return to quarters for sustenance before resuming duties." She could handle that. It had been an entire twelve hours between her last meal and now, not that such an occurrence was odd. Using the walls and railings for support, Anderson muddled her way to her onsite living space. It was small, but comfortable. Her helmet sat in the centre of her small table, in almost new condition. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually worn it. A pile of reports almost as big as the one on her work desk, floundered on her floor. Stepping around it she entered the tiny kitchenette and prepared herself food, paging for Dredd as she did so. He wanted to see her right away, he could come to her. An auto response said Dredd was currently on assignment, but would attend once done.  
Curled up on her couch, Anderson ate her pasta, staring out the window at the night. Hundreds of bright windows showed families and businesses going about their lives, preparing dinners, playing games, counting pay, unpacking stock, talking, laughing, arguing. She couldn't sense any of it. It was like her brain had simply switched off her sensor. No more mind reading for you, Missy. She set the empty plate on the floor and felt sleep pulling at her. Dredd would get here when he got here. Sleep seemed like a pretty great idea. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for nothing and everything with this chapter.
> 
> So, there are probably some trigger things in here, just as a ... warning.

Dredd shook her awake. He towered over her, all muscle and black and armour and sweat. He reeked of the street and gun powder.  
"What have you got?" He demanded. She looked at where his eyes would be, her own face stared back. She still couldn't read him, could feel nothing out of him, or from anyone in their quarters around her. Her brain was still K.O. it seemed.  
"I'm good to work," she pushed herself up, ran a quick hand through her hair, trying to rough it back into shape. He didn't move to give her space. She shimmied past him into the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water, turning to offer him one as well. He was right behind her. The glass fell from her hand. Glass shattered over the tiles, water splattering their boots. "Sorry," she stammered, reaching for a towel. He still didn't move, crowding her. She picked up the shards, mopped up the mess, even dabbed his boots, rubbing grime and blood onto her towel. She glanced up at him, to apologise again, and froze. She was staring up the barrel of his Lawgiver. "Sir?" She got out, pushing away from him, pulling herself up.  
"What have you got?" He demanded, gun still level on her.  
"Nothing! I'm shut down right now, I can't remember anything!"  
"So you have nothing." A statement. The gun lowered slightly, then all the way.  
"Well, I know there's _something_ but ... yeah ..." She swallowed thickly, trying to steady the wild gallop of her heart. She'd stared down a few barrels, but never a Judge's.  
"Not a promising start," he offered, gesturing for her to sit down again. She declined.  
"I can get the PSI division on it, have them look around, see if they can find anything. Once my brain wakes up I can have a look as well." He turned his face away from her, looking out the window.  
"Unacceptable," she heard him mumble. She followed his gaze, looking for what he saw. She didn't see his fist slam into the side of her head.  
Stars.  
Blinding.  
Bright.  
She spat blood, inner cheek lacerated. She swore as she lay sprawled on the floor, reports scattered everywhere. He crouched over her, fist balled in the front of her uniform, holding her like she weighed nothing.  
"What are you doing!?" She hissed, sending out a mental SOS. She knew it wasn't sending. Nothing was going out, nothing was coming in. He glared down at her.  
"Completely unacceptable," he repeated himself, louder now. He ripped the front of her uniform open, tearing the fabric easily. Anderson screamed, blood spattering his face, his helmet, as she did so. He flipped her over, twisting her arm back and up, pinning her to the ground. Fabric still tore, a heavy weight on her ankle as he placed his boot on her. He stood suddenly, releasing her. She turned quickly.  
Instant gag as white-hot seared every nerve ending. The cracks rocked through her. Sharp breaths. In. In. In. In. Hot. Excruciating. Nothing like being shot. No. Grud no. She hissed through her teeth as he lifted his foot from her snapped ankle.  
"Why," she coughed, whimpering, dragging herself up. Her left shoulder felt close to being dislocated, mouth throbbing, right leg on fire. He crouched before her, holding her chin, careless of the blood drooling over the green leather.  
"You are found sincerely wanting, Judge Anderson." It wasn't his voice. It was deep, and gravelly, but as dark as the pits of hell. "Imagine my surprise," he was pushing her flat against the ground, peeling off the last vestments of her Judges uniform, both literally and symbolically. "Someone found me. A _Judge_ found me. A _female_ Judge! Wisp of a thing, aren't you?" Dredds hands, ungloved and riddled with tiny scars ran down her body, digging at her ribs, her hips. "I will come for you, dear, and you'll fetch me a good price in Auction. A petite little Judge like you? The things people will do once they get their hands on this soft flesh. Are all Judges this soft? Don't reckon Dredd is. Feels pretty hard, especially for you." He slammed his point home, hard, ripping. She screamed, twisting her head side to side. Dredd was laughing, leering down at her, still holding her face as he began to rock, each movement sharp pain, inflaming her ankle, shooting new agonies into her body.  
"You're not Dredd," she cried. She was crying.  
"I am. This is all your beloved Judge Dredd. Isn't it everything you ever wanted? All those little fantasies tucked behind the wall of duty and code of conduct." The hand on her face disappeared. Her eyes flew open to the feel of metal piercing her collarbone. Dredds knife, long and sharp, slowly carving into her flesh. He was taking his time. The grin on his face widened, and she was up, suddenly, in his lap. "Move for me, girl, or I'll start dicing." The sharp tip ran down between her breasts, raising a trail of red along her navel, over her ribs, up to her neck, to her left ear. It bit deep and she rocked, choking back the pain, unable to keep the tears in check. If she slowed the knife would bite deeper, sliding down to meet bone. Shoulder blade, calf, rib, it didn't matter. His left hand gripped her throat, squeezing tightly, cutting her oxygen, returning it. Consciousness kept wavering, she yearned for it, stretched for it, but every time the fuzzy black edges of her vision grew larger, he'd let her breathe. And it was over, he was pulling out of her, groaning his satisfaction, dropping her to the floor. The broken ankle slammed into the table, making her scream all over again. She was slick with blood, all hers. She could taste it, smell it, feel it. It was pooling on her floor, her furniture, staining the reports.  
"You're not Dredd," she gasped again, coughing hoarsely.  
"I am Joseph Dredd, dedicated Judge to Mega City 1. I can give you my address and life history if you'd like me to convince you this is really happening." She tried to pull herself into a tight ball as he lifted a foot and flicked her onto her back again. The Lawgiver was out again. "What I don't understand is why the Justice Hall's wonder child mind reader couldn't find anything more than 'something'. Bit weak, hmm? I guess you're fairly useless to me." Pain bloomed before the sound of the discharge. She stared wide-eyed at her right arm, lying beside her, twitching. Red poured from the severed stump. She began to scream again. Why was no one coming? Couldn't they hear her? Where was everyone? She leant her head back, staring out the window at the opposite buildings, at the squares of warm light blooming into the darkness as excruciating heat bloomed were her left hand had been. She could see families chatting over dinner tables. A couple dancing to unheard music. "I'm feeling the urge for round two." The table beside her was lifted and thrown across the room, shattering, before he knelt over her, slid into her again and moved hard, the hot muzzle of the Lawgiver pressed roughly into her abdomen.


	4. Chapter 4

" _Anderson_!" The world was darker than normal, quieter. She stared unseeing at her table and the pile of reports leaning against it. Her helmet ... it was on her head. She was wearing it. She turned slightly, unused to the narrowed vision.  
Dredd.  
She screamed, slammed both booted feet into his gut and propelled herself towards the kitchenette.  
He grunted, cursed.  
"Anderson, what ... " She ripped her uniform open in front of him, running her hand over her ear, her collarbone. She looked at her hand, dumbfounded. She could feel the concern radiating from her fellow Judge. She could feel exhaustion and hunger and annoyance and happiness seeping in from other living spaces. Her neighbour was thrumming with nerves and worry, all for her. He'd heard her. Screaming, shrieking. She could hear herself in his memory. Sounding like she was being murdered. She was being murdered.  
"Dredd ..." She looked up at him, showed him her clean hand, and burst into tears.

\---

"It's bad." Peterson didn't bother walking Dredd into another room, not when Anderson could follow their conversation to the other side of the building. "Really bad. And it involved a ... a lot of you." Peterson's arched appraisal of Dredd left little question as to what was meant. "It wasn't you. So different. She couldn't feel it, but I can in the echo. It's evil, Dredd, really evil."  
"Why couldn't I feel it?" Anderson asked from the hospital bed. She was in perfect health. The doctors had been annoyed at finding no changes since her earlier visit. Dredd looked to Peterson questioningly.  
"It came to her as you, to learn what she knew. It deemed her useless and tortured her. For fun."  
"Rape and mutilation are hardly fun," Dredd answered sourly. She had mumbled through the tears hints of what had happened when he'd picked up the useless bundle of nerves that had hours again been a rather robust little Judge and carried her to the infirmary. Her vehemence at his touch made it clear who she thought had done it.  
"Not to it. It feels very male, very powerful. I think it's from the city, not the Wastelands. It knows our ways to well for an Outsider. It definitely knew what to do to break down a Judge."  
"Any one, I think," Anderson piped up, swatting away a robot attempting to administer a blood test.  
"I must verify," the droid burbled at her.  
"I'm verified alive!" She snarled pushing it away.  
"And you told him nothing?" Dredd frowned the robot out of the room.  
"I didn't have anything to _tell_ you ... it. I don't _know_ anything!" She began tearing cords from her head, her chest. Anderson was done. She wanted to go home. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to just not feel. Talking to Dredd was too hard, it was too fresh. She inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs expand her chest until they burned slightly. The echo of blood pumping into them, filling them, bubbling from her lips, drowning her ... but it hadn't happened. It wasn't real.  
"Cass, stay here, let them keep you under observation!" Peterson implored her, grabbed her hand. She saw flashes or worry, concern, fear.  
"I need to update the Chief. Do not leave until we have orders." Dredd turned on his heel and left, again leaving Peterson to deal with an increasingly angered and frustrated Anderson. 


	5. Chapter 5

His boots echoed through the building, preceding him into deserted rooms. The Chief Judge had been horrified, disgusted, betrayed, and angry. Find the culprit, had been the order. An attack on a Judge was an attack on all Judges. Linked to the unsolved crimes, the menace had to be resolved. Dredd was to officially apprehend and meter out justice to the perp. Attempted murder of a Judge was death.   
Attacking and molesting a fellow Judge. Dredd couldn't even fathom such an act. It went against everything he believed, and everything ingrained in him at the Academy. He unclenched his fists and looked up as he reached the medical wing. Peterson was still there, sitting outside her room, head in his hands. Lopez was with him now, rubbing his back. They both looked up as he entered the passageway.   
"I need her assistance with this case," Dredd said bluntly. Cassandra Anderson was the only person he was aware of in the giant, sprawling city who had had any contact with the mystery perp.   
"I think she needs rest," Peterson objected faintly. He looked ... rattled, for lack of a better word.   
Dredd peered at him a little closer.  
"Explain."  
"She made Peterson start to unstrap her."  
"She's strapped?"  
"She refused to stay," Lopez replied apologetically.  
"And she made him unstrap her."   
"Began to," Lopez nodded.  
"With her mind."  
"Yes." Lopez confirmed. Dredd grunted, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He looked up at Anderson, through the window. She was staring defiantly back. A wave of amusement rolled through him. Definitely not a rookie any more. A faint hint of doubt niggled at him, in the back of his mind. She wouldn't be lying there if he hadn't approached her in the first place. He squashed it down, hard. A Judge was under threat at any time. It was their duty to uphold the law and protect their city. Anderson had been doing her duty, he had been doing his. Now they had to work on it together.  
Alarms blared, bringing Peterson instantly to his feet, Dredd's hand flying to his Lawgiver.   
She was arching on the bed, straining against the straps, and screaming. That hellish, never-ending scream that seemed to tear at her vocal chords and come all the way from her toes. Doctors and Lopez came flying, bursting into her room, reading off charts and feeding drugs into her veins. She didn't stop, though. Anderson flailed and fought, destructive despite her binding. Her eyes snapped open and she went completely still.  
"Cass?" Lopez leaned over her cautiously.   
"Jo, where am I?"  
"You're still in the ward, Cass. You're not well."  
"I'm ... am I all there, Jo?" Confusion, but Peterson, having entered the room behind the rush, stepped in smoothly, albeit it a tad tentatively. Lopez evidently hadn't been fully debriefed.  
"You're completely healthy, all limbs, fingers and toes Cass." Her head hit the pillow. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.   
"We have to stop him," she hissed through gritted teeth as the sedatives took hold.


	6. Chapter 6

She felt shaky, raw. Like her insides had been carved out and replaced with jelly. Her chest was hollow from the crying, head aching from dehydration. She drummed her fingers against her desk. The first thing she'd done when she'd entered was finish her paperwork. All of it. The pile was gone, sorted into the correct files and boxes for collection. Nothing like a life altering moment to make you cherish the mundane. And avoid having to do what was coming next. Procrastination at its finest. Cassandra Anderson, now Judge Anderson, PSI Division, had never been much for procrastination. Always strive for the best and be the best, although her academic best had been a couple of points short, but she still proved herself, became the person she was today. The person sitting at their desk, tapping their fingers, staring morosely across the room, wishing something, anything would walk through the door to her right and distract her.   
As if on cue, the door opened. Revealing the worst possible distraction.  
"Dredd," she squeaked. She did squeak, throat closing over, body beginning to throb in every bad way possible. He frowned.  
"Checking on progress while I was in the building." She spread shaking arms wide, indicating the lack of mess in her office. That seemed like pretty good progress.   
His frown deepened.   
"I was ... I'm about to start," she hedged.   
"Do you ... need someone with you?" He was uncomfortable, unwillingly offering a hand into the world of emotional support. _The_ Judge Dredd, emotional counsellor. Hysterical laughter bubbled out of her. Grudd, she had to stop this, fast. She'd be psych eval'd very quickly if she kept acting like this.  
The chair across from her creaked as he settled pure muscle onto the frame. Back straight, helmet tilted forward slightly, he was waiting for her. Her eyebrows rose of their own accord.  
"Don't you have patrol?" She was almost pleading. Didn't he realise he was the one person she did not want to be talking to?  
"I always have patrol." Gruff, succinct. Great emotional support, mister.   
"How do I know this isn't a dream?" A pretty big hint. Get lost bucko. Get on your bike and scram out of this office and into some perps worst nightmare. Please get out of this one.   
"Is there anything different, to the last few times?"  
"Well, there's no physical torment," she glanced up from her fingers, which had resumed drumming of their own accord. "Yet." Somehow his frown grew. How did he have enough face to frown so much?  
"I would only ever assault a Judge if they had failed the law. Have you failed the Law, Anderson?"  
"No, Sir." Soft and weak, that's how she sounded against his deep voice, the words barely reaching the hulk of muscle and will-power.   
"Then if I assault you and you have not failed at your duties as a Judge, it is not me."   
"That ... that's somehow comforting, thank you." A small smile, just for him. The frown lessened considerably. His back curved and he relaxed into the chair, legs stretching out in front of him. She could see his boots, covered in grime and dried blood, under her desk. He was probably mid-shift if his uniform was so dirty.  
"Talk to me, Anderson. What do I need to do for you."  
"For me?" He nodded, light reflections bouncing off his visor. Her helmet sat on the corner of her desk. She'd kept it close ever since he'd jammed it on her head, rescuing her from the world. Three days that seemed like an eternity ago.   
"You're my only lead on the Perp. I need you to guide me to him."  
"I think ... I think it's more of an ... It, than a Him."   
"Mutant?"  
"Only explanation, isn't it? Not from the Cursed Earth though. I'd say born and raised Meg One."   
"What makes you say that?" He was interested, she could feel the emotion swirling around him. Interest and something a little like hope.  
"Well ... He knew a lot about you, a lot about Judges."  
"There are Judges in the Cursed Earth. I've patrolled the Cursed Earth."  
"I just- it's a feeling, okay? My whole job is feeling." She snapped, couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault, he had every right to ask, to pry, to ensure the intel was correct. She couldn't really admit that the information she'd been given could just as well have been pulled from her own mind and regurgitated back to her. It, He, was powerful, and cruel. "He'll come back, anyway."  
"To you?"  
"He didn't like me sensing him."   
"Where did you sense him?"  
"What?" She looked up from her hands again, met her own eyes gazing back from his visor, making her jump.  
"Where, where in Mega City One did you sense him?"  
"I was here," she stammered, confused.   
"But you were ... sweeping, weren't you? Searching? Where did you go?" It was her turn to frown. Her mouth fell open, closed, opened again. She had been out, flowing out of the room, past her colleagues, could recall the familiar imprint of them, could feel them this very moment, in fact, just as she could feel Dredd, sitting a metre away. "Anderson!"  
"I'm _thinking_!" She closed her eyes, pulled the images back, the sensations of the first search. A sigh escaped her, head falling back over the top of her chair, hair falling into her eyes as she opened them to stare at the ceiling panels.  
"No wonder you're a Senior Judge," she grumbled good-naturedly. She could sense his returning smile, though no doubt his face was its usual, stern self.


	7. Chapter 7

The Lawmasters were left on the sidewalk, computers sifting through thousands of ignored crime reports. Dredd was staring up at the highways, at the mega blocks that surrounded them. Three Judges raced past on their own bikes, sirens blaring. The staccato of weapons fire bounced off concrete. A woman was screaming. Several children ran around them, kicking a ball, laughter flowing freely from them. Two young girls were gossiping loudly, shopping bags clutched in their hands, new purses hanging from their slim shoulders. A group of men, workers by their outfits, arguing over a game as they passed around packets of food and sauce, making themselves comfortable on nearby steps. Anderson breathed in the smell of exhaust and rubbish, sour and bitter. It felt good to be standing on the street again. Three days that seemed like an eternity ago. Ridiculous.   
"Around here, then?" Dredd was looking at her now, waiting for her to do ... anything, really. So she did. She shrugged. And he frowned. And someone fired at them.   
Both Judges dropped, Lawgivers instantly in hand, scanning. People were scattering, meals left, shopping dropped. Another burst of fire, peppering pavement. He was in the mega block immediately to their right. Anderson glanced at Dredd. He nodded, ever so slightly. In two swift movements the smoke grenades were lobbed and the ventilators were on, giving them protective cover as another volley of shots ricocheted , barely missing Anderson as she rose and sprinted towards the building. Dredd mirrored her, both of them hitting the sides of the block at the same time. Smoke wafted inside, around the square, into the air, slowly filtering away. They could hear talk now, an argument. Anderson projected, feeling three of them. One with an automatic, one with a side arm and one who was just bitching. They were out for blood, Judge blood. Their brother had been gunned down in bank heist, he had been guilty of shooting three hostages. Family pride at its finest. Before Dredd could act, Anderson had swung the corner and filled two of them with lead. The Bitcher raised his arms, eyes wide, body splattered with his siblings.  
"You are under arrest for conspiracy of murder and aiding in the plot to rob a bank, resulting in the death of ... six citizens, three committed by your brother." He gaped at her. "They're unrelated, Sir," she felt like a rookie on assignment again as she filled in the Senior Judge. He actually shrugged a shoulder at her, watching as she bound the perp to a collection station and radioed in a meat wagon and pick up, citing the crime, evidence and duration of Iso Cube visitation. It felt good. Normal. Normal was good. And then they were staring at each other again. Time to work.   
She'd felt him, weakly, around here, and judging by the amount of rage he'd brought down on her, he was strong. So although here wasn't where they'd find him, she'd be able to start. Here. Right here. She curled her toes in her boots, straightened them. Picked a piece of food out of a molar with her tongue. Held an unfair staring contest with Senior Judge, and mentor, Dredd.  
"Well?"  
"It's nerve wracking, okay?" Snapping again, always a good place to start. He joined her, placing a large hand on her shoulder. She felt the eagle armour pad sink under the weight.   
"Anderson, it's okay. You find him, I put him down. Easy as that." She laughed. Easy as that, he wasn't the one being mentally violated. "I mean it." She nodded stiffly, not looking him in the eye. Or where his eyes should be. Did he even _have_ eyes? She cursed under her breath. Distractions were useless, and he could hear her, anyway, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards at the flood of expletives coming from her as she shrugged off his hand and turned away, forcing herself to concentrate. The trick was to not look too hard, that's what got her into hot water in the first place.   
She got it first try, a faint niggle, off to the north. She turned and glared in the direction without realising it. Dredd didn't need any more of a hint, striding for the Lawmasters. "It's your show, you lead," he offered as the comms on both bikes suddenly blared emergency broadcast. Anderson groaned. Just what they needed, another distraction.  
 _Priority message, all Judges to respond. Gang war in progress in North Sector, Mega Block 'Ian McKellan'. All Judges available to respond._  
"It's your show," Cass mocked, gesturing him to lead the way.   
The pulled out together, zipping through the flow of traffic, blaring sirens where they struck congestion, which was most of the way. They collected more Judges as they drew closer. At least they were heading in the right direction. She wasn't even feeling for Him and she could feel the niggle, at the base of her skull, taunting. He was a lot closer. 

The Gang War was almost over by the time they arrived. Dead and dying pooled blood and organs over the plaza: Judges, Gang Members and innocents alike. Gristle and shells crunched underfoot as the squad of ten fanned out. Anderson stuck close to Dredd, feeling the adrenaline kick in her veins. Peach Trees all over again. And this time she was beyond ready.  
Comms came through, the fight had moved to upper levels, Judges now pinning down the remaining gang in their head quarters.  
"Should be over by the time we get there," a young Judge, Arthur, sighed. Dredd said nothing, simply stood in glowering silence as the elevator took them up. Floor 152. Slum blocks always had all the fun. Arthur was first out the door, followed by an older Judge, Jing, Lawgivers in hand, following the sound of shouts and weapons fire.   
"You don't want to get there first?" Anderson muttered as they brought up the rear. The remaining six were still on ground level, barricading off the mess and keeping civilians inside their homes until the meat wagons had been. Dredd grunted.  
An explosion rocked the floor, vibrating through the thick concrete. Fine dust showered them, momentarily blinding Anderson as it filled her eyes. She slipped behind Dredd's bulky frame as she blinked furiously to regain her vision.   
"He's close, you know. In the area."  
"Figured." Dredd rumbled.  
"How?"  
"We're looking for him and a priority message comes through. He's probably watching." Her skin crawled at the thought, ice shards filling her gut. Now it made sense. He was hanging back to study who was watching them. Hard to do when you barged in with suppressing fire. They turned a corner, in time to see Jing and Arthur hit the ground. Dredd's arm shot out and hauled her back against the wall. Concrete exploded around them.  
"Ventilators!" Jing yelled as smoke began to fill the corridor. Complying, Anderson and Dredd swung out in tandem, crouched low, tapping Arthur and Jing as they passed them by, approaching the source of the bullets. Hacking coughs lead the way. Through the smoke Anderson found the first one, slamming him into the ground, cuffing him quickly and slamming the butt of her Lawgiver into the side of his head, stilling his struggles. Arthur's shouted stun dropped a second perp, followed by a short burst of frantic hand-to-hand with Jing and a third. Dredd was already a few metres ahead, stepping over the corpses of fellow Judges to kick down a door.  
"Judges!" He roared, followed by quick burst of ammunition. It didn't take long. He was out the door within half a minute, smoke swirling about him as he checked his clips and dusted concrete powder off his gloves. "Situation has been dealt with. Jing, call it in, Arthur we are required elsewhere. We'd appreciate you stay back and assist."   
"Technically, being the Senior Judge, and the one that nullified the threat, _you_ should be the one to stay back." Cass grinned at him, slipping her ventilator into her belt, holstering her weapon. Dredd merely frowned. It was a constant source of amusement, and frustration, in the Halls of Justice. Dredd, the fearsome law bringer, hater of paperwork.   
Her smile slipped as they rode the elevator back to ground floor.  
"He's still here, somewhere. Very close. I can feel him ... looking." Dredd said nothing, only the slight turn of his helmet towards her indicating he was listening. "In my head," she clarified for him. "Probably in yours, too."  
"Not in mine." She mimicked his frown, feeling a small burst of envy fizzle through her. So she was the only target then. Definitely not fair. "Can you tell where?" She met his gaze evenly, waiting for him to figure out why she wasn't actively diving into crazy brain.   
"In this Sector," she finally sighed, the doors dinging open to the stench of death. A meat wagon was starting to pile on victims near the block doors, several sweepers already waiting to mop up the body gunk. "Find us a quiet place and I'll have a better look." He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into the block corridors. "Or I will," she mumbled, casting out and finding a deserted apartment. Back corner, multiple avenues of escape. Owner lying, half dead behind them. Perfect. 

It was small, poorly ventilated and covered in dust and oil. The owner had evidently been in some sort of illegal bot repair work. Lights flickered as Anderson hit the switch, wattage fluctuating and throwing shadows over wires and plastic casings. The bed/couch seemed fairly clean, so she sat down on the edge, watching Dredd watching her. He stood with his back to the now locked door, arms folded, waiting.   
Swearing heavily under her breath, just loud enough for Dredd to hear, Cassandra Anderson dove in.


	8. Chapter 8

Liquid pitter-pattering onto metal. Thick, solid drops that filled the vast warehouse with echoes. Black stretched and crawled, sucking everything in its path into non-existence.   
It was cold. Bitterly cold, biting through muscle into the bone. Goosebumps rippled and burned across her skin, fighting shivers as a slight breeze dragged away every last ounce of warmth.   
Naked and alone, Cassandra Anderson stood in the dark.   
"Welcome." It was Dredd's voice. Dredd when he was on duty. Dredd when he was talking to a perp whose sentence was a meatwagon to Resyk. This wasn't Dredd with the slight smirk, the playful jab or the slightly uncomfortable camaraderie. This was the Dredd who had held a gun to her gut and pulled the trigger. The Dredd who had invaded her mind on multiple occasions, pulling the nails from her fingers, peeling the skin from her chest, prying the teeth from her jaw. Her entire body tensed, fight or flight, at the moment balanced towards flight. But where would she go? Stuck in the mind of a madman. It _was_ his mind, Cass was under no illusions there. She was currently sitting in a slum block, protected by her partner. The real version of the voice rumbling in the nothingness.  
"You won't find me, little girl."  
"Seems I did, though," she feigned bravado, trying to ignore her bones liquefying in fear.   
"Your bones break very easily, but not your spirit. I have to admire that. They build Judges pretty tough, don't they?"   
"Comes with the job." His voice was echoing, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, mingling with the plop-plop-plop of liquid. A footstep, magnified to a thousand, moved around her.   
"And you're still working with him. How _do_ you still look at him, after what he did to you?"  
"What you did to me." A deep chuckle. Very un-Dredd like.   
" _His_ hands, _his_ gun, _his_ cock. You felt all of it. You can't lie to me, little girl, you're in my domain. I can feel you wanting to piss yourself in fear, just like I can feel that quaint little tenderness still tucked in that ridiculous heart of yours."   
Fuck.  
Something shifted. A shadow, in the void.   
Light.  
Blinding.  
Illuminating.  
Bodies, tens of them, strung up by the ankles, dressed in leathers and armour, holsters empty, helmets gone. Throats open, ear to ear.  
Plop.  
Plop.  
Plop.  
The floor swirled red over metal sheets, funnelling into wide, grated drains.  
Anderson felt her back straighten, resolve firm.  
Dredd, no, _It_ , stood immediately in front of her, a wicked grin curving the visible part of his face.  
"This may be in my head, little girl, but I can assure you this warehouse exists, and these inhabitants are there right now. They all thought they could beat me. _Me_! So what'll it be. Rape? Torture? A quick slice of the throat? All of the above? I'd take number four, it's a lot more fun for me." His arm extended, barrel of the Lawgiver sliding down her cheek, following the length of her neck, the curve of her breast. Flesh parted behind it, spilling warmth down her body.   
"Why are you doing this?" She whispered. She felt no pain, only the vice-like cold, paralysing her.   
"I thought it was obvious. I like you, you like him. Jumping into the messed up minds of people can really mess with your mind. Have you found that? Bet you have. What does Dredd have to say about the things he's done to you? Haven't told him? Have you told him about the things you do to him?" A mock gasp of shock. He bent down, visored face in hers. Her breath fogged up her reflection. "You know relations between Judges is an _offence_ , don't you?"  
"What are you doing in the city?"   
"Existing, much like you." He walked around her, a shark circling its prey.   
"What is your purpose?"  
"To survive? To have fun."  
"This is ... fun ... to you?"  
"That isn't obvious?" He spread his arms wide, asking for her appreciation for his handy work. She scowled at him. He levelled the gun and fired. "You tried to stand against me when we first met, remember? You on that bridge, me smashing you into nothing but dirt." He stood over her as she crumpled to the ground, bone and muscle splattered behind her. There was still no pain, only a vague curiosity at the shattered knee. "Should I remove your limbs and use you until you bleed out? Would that be horrifying enough?" He grasped her hair, yanked her head up, pushing the barrel between her lips, letting her taste the acrid metal, feel it against her tongue. He forced it down, pressing into her throat, bringing tears to her eyes as her body rejected the sensation, gagging around the Lawgiver. "Should I pull the trigger now?" He wiggled the gun roughly. Her stomach emptied itself of lunch and breakfast and bile. "Lucky I have an endless supply of these imaginary guns, hmm?" He dislodged the weapon from her throat, dropped it at her feet. "It'll activate like the real ones, I wouldn't touch that unless you want to do some of the mutilating for me?" She was gagging, coughing, lungs and throat burning, choking on her stomach contents, trying to get part of it out of her lungs. Drowning on vomit didn't seem a very Judge-like way to die, dream or no. He had her hair again, a fistful, was dragging her, leaving a silver trail behind them as she slid through the blood of her fallen brothers, face down, suffocating.   
He smacked her, hard, between the shoulder blades, relieving her of the last blockage in her airways. She gasped hard, lungs screaming, throat closing at the sudden burst of oxygen. Her shoulders were burning. She was suspended by her wrists, metal digging into skin. Cass threw her head side to side, clearing her mind, shaking the tears and spots from her vision.   
Something began to tingle, an itch winding its way down the side of her body, pins-and-needles curving into her thigh. Sharp, hot pain. An explosion of it, prying a scream from her lips, left knee throbbing with each heartbeat, excruciating, piercing.   
"We'll have to amputate, of course, to help with the pain. You won't feel anything else, otherwise." She looked away as he held up the dull, rusted blade, brought it down to her leg, slid it into the gaping hole that had been her kneecap. Cass looked away and focused on the dead man next to her, at the dust and scratches on his armour. Where was his helmet? Where were all their helmets? What had they been responding to? Why had no one reported dead Judges? She stared at the limp face, mouth hanging open, eyes sunken and rolled back into the pallid face. Anderson almost couldn't feel the tearing of her skin and tendon, the muscle being forcefully pried apart with hand and metal. He stopped to rub himself against her, bite her breast, hard, growl how he'd do her up the arse this time. She almost missed the sound of her own leg landing on the floor, a sickening thud, the contended sigh of her captor.   
Arthur.  
The dull blade slipped easily into her womb. He pulled it out, stabbed again, higher this time, slicing intestine. She could smell her own gut. Putrid, gag-inducing sourness.   
Arthur.  
His name was Arthur.  
Her head swung back to Dredd in time to see the barrel of the Lawgiver in her face.


	9. Chapter 9

" _Where_!?" She screamed, Dredd hot on her heels as she confronted a startled Jing.   
"I don't know where he went Ma'am!" She was crushing him, mentally, her rage, squeezing the air from his lungs.  
"Anderson." Dredd. Solid and flat. She released Jing, eyes widening, apologising.   
"I ... I'm sorry Jing, but I need to find Arthur, it's important." The Judge was gasping, trying to keep composure.  
"He left right after you, said he had another assignment to attend."  
"Have you ever worked with Arthur?" Jing shook his head.  
"Different sectors." She turned and stalked away, slamming her palm against the elevator down button. Dredd placed a settling hand on her shoulder. She threw it off, slamming her fist hard into his side. It earned her a grunt of surprise, nothing more. He didn't touch her again as they reached their Lawmasters.   
"Control, I need Judge Arthur's credentials, including sector and an image," she spoke into her bikes comm. Dredd stood by her side. He hadn't asked a single question after the black eye he'd given her, waking her from the nightmare. Hadn't asked her to wait as she'd sprung up from the floor and sprinted through the corridors and lobby, fairly shouting abuse at the speed of the elevator. Hadn't so much as tilted his head as she'd drawn her Lawgiver and ordered High-Ex before storming down on Jing.   
Control worked fast, the requested information flicking up onto the display screen.  
Anderson felt her knees go weak.  
"That's not Arthur," Dredd rumbled.  
It was the face of a dead man.  
"It's Arthur," she whispered, feeling the world close in on her. "We just worked tandem with our perp," she gasped as her mind went black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Frezcop, because the last Chapter really was very short.

"You're good." She opened her eyes groggily at the sound of her Partners voice. Good for what? "Figured you wouldn't want to go back to the medward." She was staring up at a familiar ceiling. Her ceiling. Shadows playing on the roof, lights from the adjacent block spilling in. That meant it was night. It was supposed to be midday. That was wrong. She pushed herself up stiffly, muscles groaning in protest, head spinning a little. Dredd was seated in the armchair across from her, large build filling the frame, reports open in his lap. Her reports. Was he checking her paperwork?  
"I'm home?"  
"Yeah." Her feet swung to the floor. Her boots weren't there. They were sitting neatly by the door, gloves, wings and vest draped over the back of the second armchair. She put her face in her hands and moaned loudly, venting out her confusion and frustration. What was going on? "So Judge Arthur has been checking in sporadically over the past few weeks, no one in his sector has seen him, in fact today has been his first sighting. Jing confirmed that the man who responded today does not match Judge Arthurs personnel file. Looks like we have an imposter on our hands."  
"We have a few dozen dead Judges, too."  
"From the Gang shootout?" He was confused, she didn't blame him, she was too. She shook her head, savouring the warmth of her skin against her face. There was still ice in her bones.  
"A warehouse. He's killed dozens of men, Judges. Strung them up like meat and bled them out."  
"He did that to you, too." It wasn't a question. Dredd caught on fast. She nodded sullenly, anyway.  
"Blew out my kneecap, then cut away the rest of my leg. Put a bullet between my eyes when I saw Arthur. The real Arthur."  
"A little coincidental, though, isn't it?"  
"I don't think he expected me to make the connection, or even planned who he put me next to. There were tens of them in there, Dredd. I could have been strung up next to anyone." She looked up at Dredds famous frown, then noticed the glass of milk and bowl of grain cereal. She wondered if he would've cooked her something if she'd actually had anything in her quarters apart from cereal. Cass poured the milk into the bowl and began to eat slowly, savouring the feel of food settling in her empty stomach. Dredd sat quietly, reading the reports while she composed herself.  
Time ticked slowly away. Her neighbour left his apartment noisily, upstairs was having a minor domestic. In the civilian building across from them, Anderson could feel the fledgling mental tug of a baby toying with its developing mutant powers, another possible Judge in the making. The rustle of paper, the scrape of metal in porcelain. Grain crunching between molars. She sneezed, startling the both of them.  
"What are you reading?" She asked, using the disturbance to shatter away the silence.  
"Half a report," he replied curtly.  
"Oh."  
"It's mine."  
"Oh!" Relief. He was taking her down time to catch up on his own work. "You should finish yours, though, a lot of those aren't completed. They need to be filed within the week."  
"I've been a little preoccupied." She rose and took her dishes into the kitchen. He stood, following her in. Shivers raced down her spine. This was how it started, the smashed glass in the kitchen. But she didn't drop a cup, and he wasn't crowding her, simply leaning against the bench, watching her as he worked the kinks out of his back and shoulders. She turned her back to him as she began to wash up what she'd used.  
"We have eyes out for Arthur, and I'll put a call in to track any Judges that haven't been checking in or been seen over the past three months. It's a good lead, we're getting closer Anderson."  
"I know. It's good."  
"And you, you're good?"  
"Yeah." A big fat lie. They both knew it was. He shifted position, moved away from her, back into the living space.  
"Physically and mentally?"  
"Yeah."  
"You fainted."  
"I passed out. From exhaustion."  
"You fainted," he pushed. She had. It wasn't exhaustion. It was stress, horror, disbelief, panic. Pure, animalistic fear. Her tormentor, she'd touched him, been trapped in an elevator with him, been friendly with him. And she hadn't sensed a thing, just another Judge going through his daily gruelling routine of city patrol.  
"I'm not getting psych tested."  
"I wasn't asking you to. I just need to know you're good so we can keep working to catch this guy." He'd use her till she broke. She didn't need to be a mind reader to sense that. It wasn't just personal for her now, it was personal for Dredd. Arthur had talked to both of them, worked with them, been one of them, even if only for the space of half an hour.  
"How did he use a Lawgiver?" Anderson turned questioningly.  
"Ask a techie," was Dredd's curt reply.  
"Where are you going?" He was picking up his files, neatening her stack of reports.  
"To brief the Chief and see if anyone's been missing. We have work to do, Anderson."  
"Thanks for the concern," she called after him as he marched out the door.


	11. Chapter 11

There was a knock. 

Brows creasing into a frown, Anderson tucked her hair behind her ears and answered, expecting Anne, the female Judge down the hall who always left her keys in her locker. But it wasn't.

"You were leaving."

"I came back." He brushed past her, slightly flustered. The frown spread across her face. She was doing that a lot lately. 

"Why?" He felt nervous, tense. "What is it, Dredd?" Now she was nervous, stomach beginning to churn. "Did you contact Control?"

"It's all done," he was waving away her words. Incredibly unsettled. She reached out, placed a hand on his arm, moved it up to his face.

An electric shock zinged down her arm, into her brain. He jerked away. 

"Oh." The image had been pretty ... illustrating. She looked away and they stood in an awkward silence. Skin on skin was very effective for reading people, but that wasn't the kind of skin on skin he was thinking about. "I don't know why you came back," she finally said to the room, face flushed. This was not how she pictured the rest of her evening to be going. A pile of reports and more cereal, maybe, definitely not a slightly unhinged Senior Judge having his mid-career crisis in her apartment.  
"Neither do I," he rumbled, fingers drumming against his holster. His gloves suddenly dropped on her table, followed by the Lawgiver. He turned to face her. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" She squeaked, eyes widening in surprise, mouth falling open. "For what?" He fell stubbornly silent for a long moment, and then his vest came off, settling over hers, still slung over the back of the chair, where he'd put it.

"Everything. About what's happening to you. It is my fault, I pulled you into this." Was Dredd actually capable of admitting he was wrong? And apologising?

"It's part of the job," she hedged uncomfortably, wondering how she could make him leave. But, did she really want him to? That picture in his mind was unlocking a lot of heavily padlocked doors in her own head. Where those corridors lead, she didn't want to know. Did she? 

Cass huffed loudly, yanked her things out from under his vest, picked up her boots and headed into her room, shoving them into their spots in her cupboard.

"Cassandra." Her entire body tensed at the sound of her name, from his lips, as he stood in the doorway to her room. No, not the doorway, a few steps in. He was in her bedroom. He reached for her arm, took hold of her hand, tentative, cautious. Alarm bells were going haywire in her skull. This was wrong, all wrong. Heat was pooling in her stomach. "Relax. I told you, didn't I? I won't hurt you if you've done nothing wrong." He pulled her towards him, sinking back onto the bed, her bed, her straddling his lap, hands flat against his chest. Strange, she could feel the ripples of muscle and ridges of scars through his shirt, so used to feeling the armour plating under her finger tips. She touched him a lot in uniform, it occurred to her, his hand, ungloved and rough, cupping the side of her face. He brought her mouth to his, soft and tentative. She placed her hands on either side of his helmet and lifted, letting it roll away from them. And he let her. In the dark, sliced by faint light breaking past the blinds, her hands ran through hair she had never seen, savouring the taste of his tongue on hers, the feel of his hands on her thighs, kneading. Her chest pressed against his, could feel his heart beating strongly, the pulse thrumming in his neck, under her finger tips, his hands running under her shirt, pulling it over her head. She mimicked his actions, removing his and gasping as he trailed kisses down her neck. His hands were hot against her, running over her stomach, over her breasts, down her back, and she was standing, suddenly, wiggling out of her pants with his assistance, aiding him in removing his. What was happening? She was straddling him again, their mouths hot against each other. Urgency now, hot need. It washed over her, she could feel it wash over him. Didn't need mind reading to know what they both wanted. His hand touched her side, his body stilled for a moment. He was touching a scar. Her first scar. A souvenir from Peach Trees. She touched him, then, where it counted. He almost bucked her off his lap, drawing a squeal of surprise from her. He caught her, pulled her close again, kissed her fiercely as she took the reigns and lowered onto him.

Yeah, it hurt. Hurt like a bitch. What hurt more was having your limbs blown off, mentally, though. She hissed it out, come on Judge, you've copped worse. He was just touching a bullet wound for Grudds sake. He held still for her, kissing the side of her neck as she leant her head against his shoulder, willing the need to come back, the desire that had overwhelmed her moments ago. And then she felt his wash over her, drown her. So good. She moved, slightly. There was pain, yes, but also good, a breath of warmth. She moved again, heard him growl, the sound rumbling through his chest, his hands tightening on her hips, almost painfully, but she moved again and didn't care. There it was, exploding in the bottom of her stomach, tingling through her, curling her toes. She moaned loudly, dug her nails into his shoulders as she began to rock, finding her rhythm, awkwardly at first. Two novices in the dark, fumbling and sighing. And it was everything. She didn't reach where she was going before he pulled out and swore against her neck, one hand tangled in her hair, the other around her waist. She was so tiny against him. So small and exhausted, and it didn't matter that he found his release without her, because she was happy. Insanely happy. There was a reason Judges weren't supposed to do this. Now she knew why. He fell backwards, pulling her down with him, surprising her. He'd been holding them both up that whole time, through some sheer force of will power and incredible abdominals. They lay quietly, tangled nakedly together. Cass trailed an endless pattern of scars. She found his souvenir of Peach Trees, lingered over it for a moment, remembering, could feel him remembering. It was at that moment she had come into her own. Yeah, she was definitely ready now. 

"We can't ever talk about this." Statement, not a question. She said it before she could stop herself. Dredd sighed, she could feel his chest expand and contract under her. 

"I should hand in my resignation now," he rumbled. There was no anger, no betrayal, no sadness, just a deep glow of satisfaction emanating from him. He wasn't going to. Stoic, unbendable Dredd was going to ignore a statute of his position and carry on like nothing had happened.

"You know, I don't even want to see your face." He lifted his head at that, looking down at her. Sure, she could see he had ears, and a normal shaped head, but the shadows drowned everything else. She sat up and retrieved his helmet, sliding it back into place with a smile and a kiss. "This is you." His hand tangled in her hair, pulled her face back to his and kissed her passionately.   
This time she let him do all the work.


End file.
